


Never to Heal

by bullpavus (talksmaths)



Series: Not Alone Do We Stand [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 05:27:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talksmaths/pseuds/bullpavus
Summary: When Dorian returns with the Inquisition party unconscious and severely injured, Cullen fears the worst.





	Never to Heal

Cullen made his way down the stairway to greet the return of the campaign. It had been several weeks in the Frostback Basin, and with no news preceding them, they must have been successful.

The soldiers returned first, but not strolling triumphantly. Cassandra carried a limping soldier, Varric limped himself, and Lavellan carried Dorian with another soldier. Lavellan was bleeding from the side of her head and bandages were hastily applied around her thigh. But Dorian’s head was lolled down against his chest, feet dragging uselessly against the ground. Lavellan and the soldier set Dorian on a cot and healers--Maker, even the fucking  _ surgeon _ \--swarmed him, and Cullen couldn’t see Dorian’s face. He turned to Lavellan for answers.

“We--there was--out of fucking nowhere, and--ow.” A healer had begun dressing Lavellan’s head wound as she was standing. She wouldn’t look at Cullen, but instead blankly where Dorian was lying.

“What happened?” Cullen asked. When he noticed Lavellan was too wrapped in her thoughts and pain to answer, he turned to Varric instead, who was examining his own injury.

“The Jaws of Hakkon were not as inviting as we’d hoped,” Varric said. “We thought we had killed them all, but…”

Cullen watched as Lavellan swatted at the healer as she got stitches, then apologized.

“Lavellan got separated,” Varric said, lowering his voice. “She got surrounded, and Dorian saved her. We managed to kill the rest of them, and we thought he was okay. But then he collapsed, and we saw he had a knife in his back.”

Cullen couldn’t breathe. He felt the ground beneath him slip farther and deeper away, impossibly.

“Cullen--” Varric started, but Cullen had already started walking away.

Inside the tent, there were four sets of hands attending to Dorian. His armor was on the ground around them, clothing ripped and torn and moved, soaked in blood. He was on his side, so two could attend to the wound in his back. Cullen only saw red--his back, stomach, throat, pooling on the table and dripping on the ground.

Cullen felt dizzy. A healer approached him.

“When he regains consciousness, we will let you know,” he said tentatively. Cullen could tell his reaction was frightening the man. He swallowed, looking at the healer, then back around the tent. Varric, Cassandra, and Lavellan were all fine, having their wounds touched up and bandages reapplied. Cullen looked over to where Dorian was one final time. All he could see was his boots, covered in dirt and blood. Cullen felt panic begin to rise in his chest, and he left before his emotions got the better of him.

 

 

 

 

 

Cullen waited in his study, distracting himself as best he could with paperwork, then cleaning, then whatever busywork he could find. As the sun set and darkness eventually set over Skyhold, Cullen felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter and sharper. He couldn’t keep his thoughts from plaguing his mind:  _ He said  _ when  _ he regains consciousness, not if. They know he will. It’s just time. But how long will it take? How badly was he hurt? How deep-- _

Cullen shook his head, dashing the thought. Panic was making his hands too fast and heavy to control for writing and paperwork. He needed to move to shake out the nervous energy before it overwhelmed him and swallowed him whole.

Cullen didn’t realize how late it was until he stepped on the ramparts. It was closing in on dawn. Cullen felt exhaustion hit him behind the eyes, but he pushed it away. He headed to the bottom cells of Skyhold. When there weren’t prisoners being detained, the cells were often used as quarters to protect from the elements. Cullen hoped that maybe no healer had told him Dorian had regained consciousness because it was late and they didn’t want to disturb him, and not that--

Cullen feels his chest crushed and mangled, throat tight. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

The one cell with a cot in it had no extra rolls of bandages or stitches or any other materials. The cot was stripped of blankets and pillow. There was no sign that anyone had been there.

_ This is exactly what they do when-- _

Cullen sucks in what small and pathetic breaths he can, hand settling around his neck. Every moment he spends staring at the pressing harsh cruel overwhelming fuckingimpossible emptiness of the cell, he feels himself get closer and closer to losing it. He needs to leave. This can’t be the answer. This can’t be how it ends, how it all ends, that all of this and him and Dorian is just  _ over _ . Truncated. Destroyed. Removed from Skyhold like it was nothing, like all the hours they spent together are just  _ gone _ with Dorian’s death.

Cullen can hear himself wheeze with tears thick in his throat. The noise just makes him feel even more panicked.

_ They didn’t tell me because they were afraid _ .

Cullen thinks about the expression on the healer’s face when he so much as looked at Dorian. He was afraid of getting hurt. No wonder no one wanted to tell him. They were  _ afraid _ .

Cullen begins to climb up the stairs. Maybe Lavellan was told. Fuck, maybe even everyone but him knew. And  _ no one _ would break it to him?

He stands in front of Lavellan’s door, beside the throne. Moonlight dimly shines through the stained glass like a poor imitation of day. Not good enough to show off the full potential of the glass. Worse and emptier and sadder and more pathetic.

He can’t bring himself to knock. Maybe she had reason for not telling him.

Cullen closes his eyes tight for a moment, swallowing harshly. It’s too fucking hard to keep all the litany of thoughts out and he can’t breathe and his whole world is blurring. Is this what dying felt like? He was losing the only thing important to him, and now--

Cullen audibly gasps at the thought. It surprises him, but he knows it’s true. Sincerity rings in perfect harmony with devastation, alternately pulsing through him with every thundering heartbeat.

He feels exposed standing in front of the castle. He can’t think things through here. He has to leave, and it takes all of his self-control to not sprint through the ramparts. As if running would solve anything. As if running would bring him back.

As Cullen shuts his door behind him, he wants to collapse. But he freezes at the sight of someone lingering by his desk.

“Late night errands, Commander?”

Cullen steps toward him gingerly, as if moving too quickly will make him disappear. His head is empty, searching for thoughts he can’t piece together.

“I know you must be busy, but you can’t--”

Cullen interrupts Dorian with an embrace. He wraps his arms around Dorian’s waist, pressing his head into Dorian’s neck, brow against clavicle. He squeezes hard, loosening only when Dorian hisses in pain. Cullen can feel bandages wrapped around his lower back and around his stomach, encasing him. As Dorian wordlessly put his arms around Cullen’s neck, Cullen could feel bandages touch him instead of skin.

Cullen breathes in.  _ Soft. Electric. Velvet. Warmth. _

_ Perfect. _

He takes one shuddering deep breath in. As he exhales, he can’t help but let the tears out as well. Dorian gently touches Cullen’s hair, flattening it, playing with it. After a few moments, Cullen composes himself, pulling away. He can’t bear to let go of Dorian when he thought he was going to lose him forever, so he takes Dorian’s hand, awkwardly and desperately taking in his skin. Dorian uses his free hand to wipe away Cullen’s tears.

“It’s quite all right, Cullen,” Dorian says softly. “I’m fine.”

“The healer told me I would know when you regained consciousness, but no one came, and I found your cell empty.”

Dorian worries his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, looking over Cullen’s tear-stricken face. “I think the healer may have feared you and felt compelled to answer you. Typically only word of death is spread. Apparently, it’s to boost morale.”

Cullen blinked dumbly, trying to understand Dorian’s words while still trying to comprehend him just being alive. “I...what?”

Dorian half-smiled, laugh underlying his words. “No one works well with an audience. I assume he just wanted you to leave so he could work on piecing me back together.”

“I thought you were dead,” Cullen says hollowly.

The charm falls from Dorian’s face. He takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Cullen feels another wave of tears encroaching and pulls Dorian’s face to his, kissing him desperately. He tangles his fingers in Dorian’s hair and the other hand rests on his face, stubble against his palm. Cullen never wanted to forget how kissing Dorian felt. It felt like coming home.

They parted to breathe, and Cullen rested his forehead against Dorian’s.  _ I love you. I love you. I love you. _

“Dorian,” Cullen breathed, trying to stave off tears. “I love you.”

Dorian pulled back so he could look at Cullen. “You don’t mean that.”

“I can’t lose you again, Dorian,” Cullen said. “Of course I mean it.”

Dorian looked over Cullen’s face for a few more moments. “You just didn’t want me to die.”

“No,” Cullen says firmly. “I wouldn’t feel the same if it had been Lavellan or Varric or Cassandra or  _ anyone _ . I thought you had died, and I felt like the most important part of my life had died. I know I love you.”

Dorian pushes back the unruly parts of Cullen’s hair, smiling. “Please, do keep telling me about myself.”

Cullen returns the grin, feeling peace quell his anxiety, untangling the knots in his stomach and calming his extremities. Dorian presses a few small, saccharine kisses against Cullen’s lips, smiling as he does so. “And I love you,  _ amatus _ .”

Cullen furrows his eyebrows slightly. “ _ Amatus _ ?”

Dorian presses a kiss to Cullen’s forehead. “I will tell you what that means another time.”

Cullen grins widely, stealing more kisses from Dorian. There will never be enough to fill what he had thought would be an eternity without them, without Dorian. He thought his world was going to end, but now--

“I love you,” Cullen whispered into Dorian’s lips, cheek, neck,  _ everywhere,  _ holding him tight taking in every moment. “I love you so much.”

\--now was not the time to think about the wound he would never have healed from.


End file.
